Rodent from Hell

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Nocturnal renter gets evicted!

Submitted: March 29, 2007

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Submitted: March 29, 2007



My husband Tom and I used to live with our baby daughter on Highway 35, near Carmack, Mississippi. Leaf-bearing trees surrounded the large old house. To the left of the front yard was a vast field where the previous renter had had a garden. It was in disarray now, as I hadn’t experimented with gardening yet. (I do NOT have a green thumb. Even my ARTIFICIAL flowers wither and die.)

The vast acreage provided habitats for a myriad of wildlife: snakes, spiders, racoons, and my all-time favorite: possums.

The kitchen had not been revamped in recent years and there was a hole around the water pipes. Tom didn’t have access to this part of the cabinet because he would have to bend down, and it’s difficult for him because he only has one real leg. The other one is plastic. (It’s surrounded by his muscle and skin, but because it’s artificial, it tends to cause special problems.)

The nocturnal wildlife surrounding our house were under the erroneous impression that we welcomed guests at all hours of the night, so it was not unusual for Tom to come into the kitchen to get a drink in the middle of the night and see a baby possum sitting in the dish drainer. He and I determined to adapt to whatever decided to pay us a visit. After all, he couldn’t fix the hole and I lacked the knowledge to get the job done myself.

One night, I walked into the kitchen to put out the garbage. The 30-gallon black bag hung from a nail on the wall. I started to reach up to take the bag down when a grey and white head popped out of the bag! I impulsively jumped backwards, nearly tripping over a nearby chair. Even as I faltered, I never took my eyes off the possum’s beady little eyes.

"Hello!" he seemed to say.

The possum grinned at me with all 2,849 of his teeth. I wasn’t going NEAR that bag.

I called my friend Benny on the phone. He lived in the country, too, and he had had more experience with the wildlife than I had.

"Do possums bite?" I asked when he came on the line.

"No," he said. "Oh, I suppose if you stuck your finger in his mouth, he might bite."

I thanked him and hung up. I don’t know about the possums under HIS house. THIS one looked mean.

My husband went into the kitchen to get a good look at the rodent from Hell, who was looking hard at him from the bag. I stared down the possum from my post on top of a kitchen shelf.

"I have an idea," Tom suggested. "We’ll use the end of the broom handle to lift the bag. You take the bag outside and I’ll close the door."

Genius! Pure genious!

"Wouldn’t that put ME outside with the POSSUM?" I asked.

"Better you than me!" he said.

My eyes narrowed at him. I left the kitchen for a minute and came back with a long piece of string, which I tied around the inside of the kitchen door handle. I pushed open the door and repositioned myself on top of the kitchen shelf, holding onto the other end of the string.

"YOU get the broom and grab the bag. You have stronger arms than I do," I told him. He couldn’t argue with that.

Holding onto the bristle end of the broom, he delicately slipped the end of the handle under the plastic garbage bag grips. Both Tom and the bag groaned as he lifted it up. The whole time, Tom had his eyes locked on the overgrown mutant rat, who opened his mouth now in a hideous, toothy smile. His teeth could have given Ginsu knives a run for their money!

Slowly, inch by inch, Tom transported the heavy bag toward the kitchen door and finally set it gently on the ground outside. I pulled the string and shut the door with a not so gentle slam! The rodent from Hell was gone!

When I see roadkill on the Mississippi freeways, sometiimes I think fondly of my old friend in the Hefty bag and recall his sweet, friendly smile. NOT!

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